


Day Twenty-four: Making Up Afterwards (AKA: Sometimes the Hardest Thing to do is Say Goodbye)

by a_xmasmurder



Series: 30 Days of OTP: Bond/Q [24]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond - All Media Types, Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Danger, Fighting for their lives, I'm Sorry, M/M, Mission Fic, People getting shot, TW: Blood, This is not a good day at all, Violence, canonical violence, injuries, there will be damage, tw: guns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-11
Updated: 2013-06-11
Packaged: 2017-12-14 15:45:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/838600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_xmasmurder/pseuds/a_xmasmurder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes you just want things to go your way for once.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day Twenty-four: Making Up Afterwards (AKA: Sometimes the Hardest Thing to do is Say Goodbye)

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry. I am...sooo sorry. This wanted to happen. Um. Sorry.

Trying to slide the large-ish SUV through the tight alleyways that were really only made for foot travel equated itself to splitting an arrow, Bond had to admit. And with the extra stresses on his mind of listening for a hovering death machine and checking every five seconds to see if Q was still breathing, the task was nigh on impossible. Somehow, miraculously, he managed to thread through the maze of rubbish bins and mopeds and small animals without hitting walls or knocking off the mirrors - _At least I seem to be a better driver than Eve_ -, coming to a halt just at the mouth of the last alley. He took a quick glance to make sure they were under one of the cloth awnings that were draped haphazardly all over; it would serve as camouflage from the Lynx, at least for a bit. He turned to Q. The wounded man rocked slightly in his seat, humming something incoherent while his fingers tapped a steady rhythm on the keyboard of the dirty laptop on his lap.

“What now?”

Q didn’t answer right away; he dragged his teeth over his bottom lip and blinked at the screen. Bond fought down the urge to repeat his question, fought down the urge to ask if Q was alright - _of course he’s not alright, you prick, he’s got a hole in his side and he’s not used to that_ \- and fought down the urge to slam his head against the steering wheel. _Breathe, just breathe, you have done this all your life, dealt with this, you can deal with this._ His left eyelid started to tic, and he almost gave in to grabbing Q by the shoulders to shake him when the hacker looked up at him and smiled weakly.

“I’ve got us past the carpet jamming, got it shut down. I’m piggybacking on a Vortex satellite right now. Not only does MI6 now know that we are...in a spot of trouble, they also scrambled a Team to assist.” His dry lips pressed into a tight line, and pain sparked in his eyes. “Using...oh, fuck this hurts...the satellite imaging, I’ve...located the Lynx, and the bulk of our assailants.”

“Fantastic. Great.” Alec grunted from the back seat, then hissed out a breath as he tightened a makeshift splint for his ankle. “Definitely broken. So, what are our friends doing?”

“Waiting for us, of course,” Q shrugged his shoulders, then winced. “Shit, remind me not to do that again.” He paused again to take a breath. “I detected another presence in the mainframe, which I’m trying to fight right now...and they’ve been doing the same thing I’m doing.”

“They know exactly where we are.” Bond growled, ignoring the rest of the words.

“Within a margin of a few yards, give or take.”

“So they were jamming our signals, but not theirs?” Alec squinted up at the roof of the Rover while he pushed Crabb further down in the seat.

“Yes.”

Bond drummed his thumbs against the steering wheel and shook his head in frustration. “How does that even work?”

“I really...don’t have the energy to explain right now.” Q sagged a bit in the seat, pressing against the safety belt across his chest. Bond hoped he was imagining the new shade of pale that tinted the Quartermaster’s skin, but he wasn’t the kind of person to have false hope. _And if Q - Evan - dies on this mission, so help me I will never hope again._ “So we have...” Q blinked and pressed a key, bringing up three different windows on the screen. “We have three options. One: I activate an jamming programme...one that will cut off all eyes in the sky, all comms, everything - electronically... using the system I built two nights ago at the house. That will cut MI6 off, as well, but it can't be helped...and then we slip out and hopefully outrun the helicopter that is looking for us.”

Bond and Alec nodded.

“Two.” Q held up two fingers. “We break and make a run for it. Somehow, we have managed to hit on the one vehicle in our history that actually has a full tank of petrol...and that can work in our favor." He sucked in a breath. "Try to outrun these dicks while retaining our support and satnav. I will pick a spot that the Team can pick us up from, vehicle and all since I believe they are coming with something that can carry it. Maybe...” He blinked again. “Possibly.”

“And the third?” Bond tried to keep Q from going off-track.

“Third? Door number three has a dead fish. Basically...we split up again, you take Mr. Crabb and the case and get the fuck out of here. Alec and I hold them off as long as we can -”

“Nope.” Bond shook his head hard, not letting him finish. “No, no, absolutely fucking _out_ of the question, no. If anything, I’d leave Alec beca - _no_. Not leaving him either. Nope.” The very thought of escaping and looking back to see his boyfriend and his best friend cut down made his stomach curdle. “Not again. Fuck that. So. One or two, Alec? What do you think?”

Alec grinned manically. “Both options suck. Flip for it?”

“Oh, for the love of -” Q groaned, and tried to giggle, something that made Bond smile at him. “Can we just...”

“Yes, we are!” Alec dug in one trouser pocket. “We are just. Aha!” He pulled out a silvery coin and smirked. “Heads, plan numero uno. Tails, dos. Call it.” He flipped it up with a flick of his thumb.

“Heads.” Q and Bond said at the same time.

“Oh God, save me,” Alexander Crabb whimpered from the far back as he watched the exchange with wide eyes. “y-you people are mad.”

Alec caught the coin and slapped it on the back of one of his dirty and bloody hands, lifting the other up immediately. “And it is...tails!”

“Damn it all.” Bond dropped his head against the seat and groaned. “I still like the first plan better.”

“So do I.” Alec’s grin was threatening to turn into something harsher and feral.

“S-so which one are we d-doing, mates?” Crabb stuttered as he crawled up to the middle seat.

Glass shattered over the interior of the Rover, and the weapons designer dropped to the floor.

“Fuck!” Alec dove down in the seat to get to a different position, then popped back up, assault rifle held in a viciously tight grip, single rounds barking out to hit the group of people behind them. “Go! Just _fucking go_! Crabb? Crabb, you still here? You still with me? Talk to me!”

Bond stomped hard on the gas pedal, hoping the helicopter was nowhere near them.

  
  
  
  
  
  


At the report from the gun in Alec’s hands, Q’s brain - what wasn’t muddled by exhaustion and pain - hit the ‘overdrive’ button and he was in action, instantly going for option one: he started the jamming programme.

Easy as that. They were now blind and so was the enemy. The front windscreen pockmarked from an errant round, making him flinch. Alec roared wordlessly as he took shots at their pursuers. The Rover skidded out onto the main road in his boyfriend's capable hands, all passengers put off balance when Bond did some fancy footwork to spin them around to face the opposite direction, then he laid on the accelerator again and they were on the move. Q stared hard at the screen of his laptop, willing the jamming to work, hoping he’d retain at least _a little_ leeway to get onto their own server at the house with the little loophole he’d built into the programme... _fuck!_ He spotted someone nibbling at the edges of his tunnel, and he growled. The only way he could fight them was to drop the jamming field, but then they were sitting ducks. _Not like we aren’t already, sans an armoured vehicle and smart bombs, but whatever. Even more like sitting ducks, then._ The heavy _thwup-thwup-thwup_ of helicopter rotors found his ears as gunfire erupted behind them again, and Q’s heart picked up speed, making him nauseous and dizzy as it fought to pump blood that wasn’t quite up to par just yet. _Tank’s running low,_ he thought, his smirk sardonic as he quoted 007 himself, after a rather fretful two day mission that left the agent in Medical for a week. _I wonder how long I’ll be there?Probably won’t make it if that’s the Lynx..._ Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Bond raise his eyes to the ceiling and curse.  _It's the fucking Lynx._

“Fuckers found a car, James, go faster!” The bolt on Alec’s gun locks open on empty, and he groped Bond's hip pocket for the very last magazine. “Faster!”

“Trying, mate. Just hold on - ”

Another burst of heavy fire, joined by the hateful sound of the chain gun on the helicopter above us, and Bond jerked hard against his belt, his face screwed into a rictus of pain. His shirt gains a ragged hole, and red blossoms over the white fabric. Q’s first instinct is to scream at the heavens, but he doesn’t have the energy or the time for that. Instead, he reaches over and takes the wheel as James' hands drop and he slumps back against the seat. _It's bad._ “Alec! _Alec!_ ” He’s aware of the building panic in his voice, but he’s stopped giving a shit a long time ago. “Get up here and take over. James just got hit.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


A string of vicious Russian boils out of the agent’s mouth as he abandoned his rifle after emptying it into the grille of the car behind them and pushed his way to the front. “James, talk to me, fucking _answer me_! Are you alright?” He slid his large frame awkwardly over a conscious James, who still had his foot pressing the accelerator down as Q steered awkwardly, his belt pushing painfully on his own wound. “James, fucking -”

“Fine...’s fine, fuck, right side again, someone's got it out for my right side...Lung... fuck, I think, _get off of me_ you huge...fucking Russian bastard.” James worked his belt off and pushed away from the seat, sliding out of Alec’s way and taking his foot off the pedal. The SUV jerked as they traded spots, and Q whined in pain. Bond bumped down into the space between the seats, his head landing on Crabb’s shaking shoulder. He turned his head, breathing heavy. “You still with us?”

“...homewouldbenicenowlet’sgohomenow...”

James grinned and pressed his hand against the hole just beneath his right pectoral. “Yeah, we're trying. You will be fine...” He sucked in a breath and grimaced against the feeling of blood filling his chest. “Fuck, and I won’t...” _At least this time I’m not falling off a fucking train._ He looked up to see Q’s pale and stricken face staring down at him. He tries on a smile and swallows the taste of copper, such a familiar taste now.  _Damn it. This is what I was afraid of...another one. I'm..._

“Sorry. I love you - ”

All at once, a wave of agony as his lung collapsed from the ragged rifle round and he sank under the blanket of darkness, the glassy stare of his dear Quartermaster and his heart the last thing he saw. _So fucking sorry..._

  
  
  
  
  
  


Q dropped his head back to his seat. “Alec, he’s unconscious.”

“It’s bad, I know, shut up and get me out of this.” Alec gripped the steering wheel tightly as the helicopter above them swung around for another go. _Please don’t go for the engine, damn it, do not go for the engine, please don’t fucking go for the engine..._

“I’m cutting the jamming signal.” Q’s voice thickened with tears, but Alec didn’t spare him a look to see if they were shed or not. “No time to grab the map. Need a map now, fucking Tel Aviv, fucking...everything. We need help...” The man’s breathing was too quick, and even more of Alec’s heart broke off and dug into his chest. _Gonna lose them both, I'm not okay with this..._

“Do it. We need to get out of here, and _mudak_!” He swerved to avoid a line of heavy metal thunder from the Lynx. They ended up in the oncoming lane and nearly ran headlong into a lorry, but Alec wrenched the wheel back over. The lorry ended up taking the next barrage of rounds, the engine deconstructing itself under the power and damage, the driver killed instantly and its cargo of meat chickens shot to hell. He didn’t even glance back as he fought the Rover back on track. “Damn it.”

“Right, take a right _now_!”

“Fuck.” Alec slammed his foot on the brake pedal, sending the truck into a barely controlled skid that had fleeing vehicles swerving and honking around them. Behind the two men, Alex Crabb crawled to his knees and pressed his hands to Bond’s chest, one to the bleeding wound and one over his heart.

“He’s still b-breathing, and h-he’s got a pulse.”

“Oh, fucking good.” _But for how long?_ Alec yanked the wheel over to make the turn before the next barrage could get them. “Keep him that way, please!” He glanced over at the shout of pain. “Sorry, Q!”

“Damn it...” Q blinked at the screen, his fingers tight against the laptop to keep it from sliding out of his lap. “Damn it...” A tone buzzed through the interior of the SUV, and Q jerked, his bloody hand shifting to pluck something - an earwig - out of his bag and setting it in his ear, tapping it once. “This is Q.” His face went slack with relief. “I’m...sorry, sir, we had a slight problem. Do you have the Team scrambled? Oh, good...very good. I’m pinging our position right now. We need an immediate extraction. Yes sir.” He nodded slowly, his eyelids drooping and his skin turning even paler. Alec tried to focus on the road ahead, but the drone of the helicopter and the knowledge that Q was going to die right there in the fucking seat and Bond is dying behind him and there was nothing that he could do but drive and hope that a fucking team of people he’s most likely never fucking met would be able to find them now that there’s apparently a fucking war happening in Israel...he slammed one balled fist against the steering wheel and growled out even more Russian, feeling the traitorous sting of tears welling in his eyes. But Q was still talking to someone. “Yes...perfect. Put me through.” He turned his head towards Alec and flashed a thumb’s up and a weak smirk. “Keep driving, and keep us alive, Alec.”

It took Trevelyan’s mind about five seconds to realise Q had spoken in Russian.

 _Is it impossible to not fall in love with this brilliant fucker? If things were different...I'm sure he'd do it..._  Alec turned his head back to the road and slammed on the brakes, cursing every god damned dick hugging cock-sucking son of a fucking whorish Belgian fucking donkey's cunt with syphilis and rabies who had looked upon their predicament and said 'Why not fuck with them a little more?'... A deuce and a half blocked the road ahead, along with about twelve men in black combat suits, armed to kill. The Rover rocked to a halt, causing Q to groan in pain. The young man cut it off with a physical bite, his teeth clacking together. “Eagle One, this is Q, authorisation code Broken Glass. We need immediate assistance and pickup from our current position. It will be a hot zone, repeat, hot zone. We need all the firepower you can provide.” His voice carried none of the fear or pain or sorrow that it had before, stronger.

 _He’s resigned to his fate, just like the rest of us._ Alec took a deep breath, calm settling deep into his bones and wiping away all emotion other than duty. And to him, and men and women like him, duty was an emotion. _Duty helped you do the impossible._ But the impossible now would be to escape with two severely injured comrades and a non-combatant. He looked up into the cracked rearview mirror and watched the Lynx land a couple hundred yards behind the Rover, its engines shutting down but the chain gun beneath its nose maneuvering around to point at them. _No more fear._ He could feel Bond’s blood soaking into the back of his shirt, his jacket having been cannibalised to make the splint for his leg. He sat back against the seat, feeling that blood slide against his skin, melting into the most intimate part of his best friend - blood they had shared time and time again-, relaxing as he listened to Q talk over the secure line.

“We have wounded. One man is unconscious -”

“... ‘m awake now...”

Alec turned his head to look at Bond as Q corrected the transmisson. He smiled softly at the man lying on the floor in a pool of blood, palor ugly pale under his lovely tan. “So you are.” He still spoke in his native tongue. “It was fun.” Q's voice trailed off beside him.

The corner of James’ blood-streaked lips turned up into a smirk. “Have...have Q come back here?” The whispered words were in the same language.  _My loves, my family - England, Bond, Q. All of them._

Alec nodded at his friend, his lovely best friend. _We all die here today. No one gets left behind._ “Did you hear that, Evan?” He turned back to look at the slumped figure of Q. “Fuck.” _Not yet, please, not until..._  He wiped one hand over his face as the apparent leader of this rabid pack of fucking whomever started shouting through a bullhorn. He couldn’t even muster enough anger for it. _No emotion but duty. Emotion clouds judgement. Evict it all._  All he could do was reach over and touch Q’s neck.

A thready pulse pressed against his fingers, fluttering weakly under Q’s cool skin. “Q. Wake up.”

“Tired...” The response was just as thready.

“Wake up.”

“G’way.”

“No time to sleep.”

“...’copter’s on its way...”

“Yes. You are done. Good job, Q.” Alec pulled the earpiece out of the hacker’s ear and snugged it into his own, and unclasped Q’s safety belt, gathering the shivering man in his strong arms and pulling him down to lay him gingerly on top of Bond’s body. James hissed as Q’s full weight pressed against his bullet wound, but wrapped his arms around Q anyway. Alec smiled, the chunk of lead in his chest throbbing painfully. _Evict it all._  The shouting got louder, and he sighed.

“We are going to die, aren’t we?” Even Crabb had lost the stutter in his voice. Alec smiled at him.

“Yeah. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. Um...I’m going to be tortured, aren’t I?”

Alec closed his eyes, and listened to the helicopter driver on the other side of the connection, judging how close they were by their communications. His tongue pressed against his far back molar. “No. Even if they drag us out there, you won’t. They won’t hurt you. I promise you won’t feel a thing.” After Silva, all the Double Os asked for more permanent measures. Suicide pill became suicide bombs, thanks to Q. Lovely, lovely little Q, with his ridiculous coffee and ridiculous hair.  _Evict it all._

The man nodded.

Alec looked down at Bond. The man was whispering soft words into Q’s ear while holding him as tightly as he could. The words looked like ‘sorry’ and ‘I love you’. Q blinked slowly as tears tracked along his nose and dripped onto James' bloody shirt. Alec turned his head to look out at the approaching men. _That bastard is still on that horn, and I don’t understand a fucking word of Hebrew...or whatever they are fucking talking._ He turned back, bending down quickly to press a chaste kiss onto Q’s bloody temple and then between Bond’s brows. He stroked both of their heads, smoothing hair back and saying with touch what he would not say out loud. His heart felt like it was going to stop, and he didn’t fucking care, because he had no intention of living after this. The back cargo door wrenched open, and so did the driver’s door. Someone grabbed his wounded arm, and he nodded to Crabb as the man yelped and was pulled backwards away from...

_Goodbye, James. Q. It was fun._

 


End file.
